Jack is Back
by Bill Hiers
Summary: Five years in Bedevilled Island Maximum Security Prison lead one would-be spy to seek revenge against the folks at Higher For Hire. Chapter 8 is up!
1. In Leroy's

The short, slightly chubby rabbit entered Leroy's Tavern to be immediately assaulted by the smell of tobacco and beer, not to mention the shouting and laughing of the various customers and the unusually bouncy tune coming from the paino in the back.

Leroy's was a seedy, sleazy waterfront bar, where grime and underhanded opportunity are found along with a variety of thieves, cutthroats, and vagrants come to get drunk really fast. Back when he was still a mailman, Jack Case would've avoided Leroy's like the plague unless, by some stroke of bad luck, he'd been forced to deliver a package there. Now, though, it was the first place he went after the airfield, drugstore, and the boarding house, after setting foot in Cape Suzette for the first time in five years.

Pausing on the landing, he he winced as he felt another headache coming. Reaching into the pocket of his rented, cheap, but expensive-looking suit jacket and removed a small bottle of pills he'd gotten from the drugstore. He took two tablets from the bottle, chewed them and swallowed them, and then put the bottle back into his pocket.

Leroy, if Jack recalled, was the enormous moose standing behind the bar, an imposing individual with an eyepatch and one broken-off antler. Gathering his courage, and turning the collar of his jacket up, Jack approached the bar. Leroy was in the middle of pouring a drink for a thoroughly intoxicated-looking mouse, who upon receiving his mug of beer shambled away from the bar, sloppily consuming the beverage. Leroy took instant notice of Jack, and after eyeing him said, "What can I get ya?"

Jack swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. "Actually, I don't want a drink. You're Leroy, right?"

"That's right," the moose said. "Now, if ya don't want a drink, then what do ya want?"

"Well, uh, I've come seeking some help with... something." Leroy raised an eyebrow at this, so Jack leaned in and whispered, becoming calmer the more he spoke. "I've heard stories about your establishment are true. Word around the block is, you're frequented by a number of, shall we say, disreputable individuals looking for work?"

Leroy's manner changed instantly. He looked left, then right, and then signaled for a large hyena to come over. "Jimmy, take care of the bar for me for a sec. I've gotta talk some business with long-ears here."

The hyena, Jimmy, nodded, and Leroy motioned with a sideways jerk of his head for Jack to head towards the back of the bar. Nodding, Jack did so, Leroy following, the bar separating them until Leroy reached the end, lifting the hinged portion of the countertop and stepping out. He and Jack walked to a door at the back, and the moose opened it, stepping inside. Jack followed and Leroy closed the door. The rabbit found himself in a small, messy office.

Leroy sat on the edge of his large desk. He said, "So, what's the gag?"

"What do you mean?" asked Jack, genuinely confused.

Leroy laughed. "You don't exactly look like the sorta guy who'd wanna hire 'disreputable individuals', as you so smoothely put it," he said. "Whaddaya do for a livin'?"

"I'm a mailman," Jack said matter-of-factly.

Leroy furrowed his brows and chuckled. "On second thought, maybe you are the type. But you sure don't look it. Anyway, business is business, right? Now, I ain't gonna ask you for your name or nothin' like that, or even why you wanna to hire some goons--"

Jack held up a finger. "Now, I never said 'goons'."

Leroy continued as if Jack hadn't spoken. "--all I'm gonna ask is, what's in it for me? I mean, pointin' a guy towards the services of half the guys out there ain't exactly legal, so, uh, I'll just ask for a small finder's fee, as it were." He brought his hand up, rubbing his fingertips against his thumb.

Jack sighed. He was expecting this, but hoping against it. Reaching inside his jacket he pulled a wad of bills out and handed them to Leroy. The moose grinned widely and thumbed through the cash for a moment, silently counting.

"I basically need a couple of strong backs with small brains," Jack was compelled to add.

After "flipping" the bills with his thumb for effect Leroy stuffed them into his pants pocket. Wordlessly, he got up off the desk and walked to the office door, opening it.

Pointing out the door, he said, "You see those guys at that table there?" Jack joined him at the door, following the direction his finger was aimed in. He saw two large, muscular canines, a bulldog and a hound of some breed, sitting at a table talking and laughing. Jack nodded to indicate he saw them, and Leroy said, "I think they'll suit your needs just fine. But they don't come cheap."

Jack nodded again, glumly. He hoped he had enough money left to pay for the services of mercenaries. He asked, "So, uh, what do I do?"

"You really are new at this, ain't ya?" said Leroy. "Just walk up to 'em, and if they don't knock your lights out on sight, just tell 'em Leroy sent ya. That should get ya started. The rest is up to you, my friend."

With that, he shooed the rabbit out of the office, shut the door behind them, and returned to the bar. On his own, Jack gulped nervously. Especially when that drunken mouse he'd seen earlier stumbled a little too close to the table of the two Leroy had indicated, spilling some of his beer into the lap of the bulldog. Balling up his fist, the bulldog punched the mouse viciously in the snout, knocking him flat on his back. Jack approached, cautiously stepping over the unconscuous drunkard, and stood before their table. He cleared his throat.

They turned to look at him, glaring. "What do you want, bunny-boy?" the hound said, threateningly."

Quickly, as though his life depended on it, and it probably did, Jack replied, "Leroy sent me."

The two canines blinked, looked at one another, and grinned. As with Leroy before, Jack observed, their attitude towards him changed the instant they realized there was something to be had. With his foot underneath the table, the bulldog pushed a chair out for Jack and said, "Have a seat, buddy, and we'll talk business."

This was it. The moment of truth. If he went through with this, there'd be no turning back. Sudden, unbidden memories of falling from the Sea Duck, of five years in a dank, cold cell, of interrogations at the hands of the Thembrian guards... and Jack sat down, scooting the chair up to the table. He looked back over at Leroy, who was behind the bar again, and the moose nodded to him.

Turning back and leaning forward and grinning for the first time in a long time, he lent his elbows on the tabletop and steepled his fingers before his face, and said, "Do let's."


	2. Plan A

Author's Notes: This'll likely be the last chapter for a while, until I can see "Spy in the Ointment" and other episodes of TS to get into the proper feel of the show, particularly with regards to the details. I don't think this one is as well written as the previous chapter, but felt compelled to post it anyway. As it stands, it'll most likely end up being a really rough draft to be edited and revised in the future.

Kit Cloudkicker, walking home from school, was suddenly aware that he was being followed. Ever since he'd left the schoolyard and started walking back to Higher For Hire, he'd noticed a large hound wearing a floppy-brimmed fedora and a blue trenchcoat was always about a yard or so behind him.

Every so often he'd glance back, and the guy would stop and act like he was doing something else, like buying a hotdog from a vendor or even buying some flowers, but each time Kit looked away and continued he could tell that he was being followed again.

It wasn't like he was unused to dealing with criminals. But the young bear couldn't help but feel particularly ill at ease with this one, primarily because he had no idea who the guy was! If it had been one of the Air Pirates or one of Trader Moe's goons, that he could handle. This unfamiliar face that seemed so intent on stalking him worried him to no end.

When Kit was about a block from Higher For Hire, he glanced over his shoulder once more, seeing that the hound was still there, decided to throw caution to the wind and broke into a run. A final glance showed that his stalker was no longer behind him, and he felt instantly relieved. As he approached Higher For Hire, he could see Wildcat tinkering with one of the Sea Duck's engines.

Baloo was lounging in a lawn chair nearby, his cap pulled down over his eyes. Wasting no time, Kit dropped his schoolbooks and ran to his adoptive parent's side, grabbing the larger bear's arm and shaking him awake.

"Hmm, huh, what?" gasped Baloo, sitting up so suddenly his hat fell off and he almost toppled out of the lawn chair. Turning to see it was only Kit, he sighed and chuckled, patting the cub's baseball cap-clad head. "Oh, it's just you. What's up, kiddo? You look like you've been runnin'..."

"I have," Kit admitted. "I was followed from school by some guy in a hat in coat! He was big, and really mean-looking too, like he could break me in half with his bare hands! I finally ran, and I guess I must've lost him..."

Getting out of the chair, Baloo stooped down and retrieved his hat, replacing it on his head. Turning back to Kit, he scowled. He looked skeptical. "Probably just some guy out for a walk. It's just your imagination runnin' wild on ya, kid." Kit scowled, prompting Baloo to smile sympathetically. He added, "But, I tell ya what. If he ever shows up again, you come get me and I'll have a word with him."

"Thanks," Kit said, sounding relieved that Baloo at least was taking his fears seriously, even if he thought it was all just a false alarm.

Jack Case paced back and forth inside his hotel room. Sparky, the bulldog he'd hired last night, sat at a small table across the room, cleaning a pistol. There was a knock at the door, making Jack jump. Being a rabbit, he nearly hit the ceiling.

"I'll get it," Sparky said. Retrieving another pistol he approached the door, grabbing the handle but not opening it. "Who is it?"

"It's me," said the person on the other side.

"'Me', who?" questioned Sparky.

"It's Jethro, man! C'mon, open the door!"

With a chuckle, Sparky stuck the pistol into the concealed weapons holster he currently wore strapped to his body, and opened the door. Jethro, the hound with a sizable chin, came into the room and Sparky closed the door after him. Jack noticed that Jethro was holding a half-eaten hotdog in one hand and a bouqet of flowers in the other.

"What in the name a'..." grumbled Sparky, also noting this. "You gettin' ready for a hot date or somethin'? What's with the flowers?"

Jethro blinked stupidly, then looked down at the bouqet as though he only now noticed it even existed. "Oh, those," he said, throwing them down. "Nevermind those. Anyway, I followed that kid from school, but he gave me the slip." He then proceeded to take a huge bite out of the hotdog, which Sparky slapped from his partner's hands.

"Probably because you were too busy stuffin' your ugly face and buyin' flowers, ya idiot!"

Jack rolled his eyes. Sparky was living up to his expectations of a hard and efficient mercenary, while Jethro, on the other hand, seemed incapable of completing any task assigned to him. "That kid would've given us a lot of leverage," he finally said, approaching the two. "if I had Kit Cloudkicker as my prisoner, I would've been able to force that fathead bear to do whatever I wanted!"

"Sorry, Mr. Case," said Jethro, removing his fedora and nervously wringing it in his hands.

Jack sighed. "We'll just have to go to Plan B, then," he said at length.

The two canines nodded eagerly, then paused and exchanged confused glances. Finally, Sparky said, "Uh, what's Plan B? Are we gonna bump 'em off, boss?"

"No, fool," said Jack as he walked over and retrieved a duffel bag from its hiding place behind the bed. Its contents were unknown to the two hired guns, as Jack had thought out Plan B long before he even set foot in Leroy's Tavern. The contents made either hollow metallic banging noises or liquid sloshes, both muffled by the fabric of the bag. "We're not bumping anyone off," he added as he slung the bad over his shoulder.

The two goons looked disappointed. "Aw, shucks, Mr. Case," said Jethro.

Sparky said, "Well, if we ain't gonna be bumpin' 'em off, what's in the bag?"

Jack grinned darkly, heading for the door, treading on the dropped flowers as he went. "You'll see, gentlemen. You'll see. Now, let's go. I know of a dumpster we can hide in until nightfall."

He opened the door and walked out. Sparky, grabbing his own hat and coat, followed. Jethro paused to grab the other pistol, and the hotdog from the floor, which he proceeded to stuff into his mouth. Hurrying out after the other two, he whined, with his mouth full, "But I don't wanna hide in a dumpster!"


	3. Plan B

It was just getting on midnight, and Baloo was fast asleep in bed, when loud clanging sounds awakened him. Sitting up in bed and groggily rubbing his eyes, he looked around. Nothing was amiss in his bedroom, so he went to the window. Across the docks, he could see that the lights were on in Higher For Hire. His initial thought was that it was just Becky stopping by to do some late-night work. Miss Cunningham was, after all, a workaholic.

Still, Baloo figured he might as well investigate. He quickly dressed, careful not to wake Kit, and then grabbed a baseball bat and headed over to the building. A strange-looking car was parked out front. Smashing sounds came from within, and Baloo knew instantly that it wasn't Rebecca... or anyone friendly, for that matter. As he drew nearer, he could hear voices.

"No, you idiot, I said spread it liberally! Don't just dump it all in one puddle on the floor"

"Sorry, Mr. Case"

Case? Baloo tried to place that name, but couldn't. The first voice sounded familiar, though Putting that aside for now, he quickly went to the door and kicked it in. It swung open, and upon stepping inside Baloo suddenly smelled gasoline. His eyes fell on two canines, a hound and a bulldog, wearing trenchcoats and fedoras, standing there in the midst of pouring gasoline from metal cans, having stopped what they were doing and turned to stare wide-eyed at the bear. He didn't recognize either of them.

"All right" Baloo said, approaching the pair. "What's goin' on here? What're you two gangster movie rejects doin' in my business"

Neither replied. They merely looked nervously at the bat he was holding and exchanged uneasy glances. Baloo stepped closer. "Hey! I asked you a question! Why're you pourin' gasoline all over my floor"

"Oh, come now" a voice said from off to the left. Baloo spun to face a short rabbit wearing a straw boater and bowtie, who he hadn't seen when he came in because he was so focused on the two goons with the gas cans. "It should be obvious even to you, Baloo."

Baloo's jaw fell open. "No" he said. "It can't be..."

Suddenly the bear was pitched forwards as he felt a sharp pain stabbing into the back of his head. From the sloshing sounds and the hollow, metal thunk, Baloo figured one of the two goons had hit him with a gas can. He fell forward face-first onto the gasoline-soaked wood floor. Rabbit feet filled his vision as their owner stood over him, frowning down at him. Baloo suddenly remembered where he'd heard the name Case before. "Jack Case is the name, and spying's my game" this rabbit had said almost five years ago, standing on roughly the same spot.

"Sorry about that" Jack said, not sounding a bit sorry in the least. "But it looks like you stumbled onto things a little early, Baloo. I'm afraid we're going to have to abscond with you, lest you alert Miss Cunningham and spoil the surprise"

"B-but, what-what are you doin'" Baloo stammered, fighting to keep himself conscious. What was Jack Case doing here, now, in Higher For Hire, in the middle of the night, after five years of not a word?

Jack laughed. It was an evil, hateful laugh. "Sorry, old chum" he said, grinning down at Baloo"but that's on a need-to-know basis." His smile faded and he suddenly kicked Baloo in the side, making him grunt in pain, then crouched down beside the bear's prone form. "All very hush-hush! But I will tell you one thing to tide you over for now." There was a lengthy, almost unbearable pause, before the rabbit said, almost whispering"You took away five years of my life... and now I'm back to return the favor."

He snapped his fingers and Baloo felt himself lifted up by the two huge thugs. Before one of them smashed him over the head again with one of the gas cans and knocked him out, he heard Jack instruct them to put him into the trunk of their car if he would fit, and then to get the matches. The last thing he could consciously take in was being stuffed into the trunk of an automobile...

Kit woke, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He heard the sounds of men talking nearby. Going to the window and looking across at Higher For Hire, he could see three individuals loading some stuff into a parked car. One of them was a short rabbit, the other was a bulldog, and the third, to Kit's sudden, horrific realization, was the hound in the blue trenchcoat who had been following him the other day.

Quickly, he ran to Baloo's bedroom to wake him, only to discover that Baloo's bed was empty! He ran to the front door, found it hanging slightly open, and quickly hurried outside in time to see the car speed off with the three men inside. Suddenly, he heard a pop, followed by a crackle, and he could see an orange-ish glow emananting from within Higher For Hire. Instantly, he realized the interior of the building was on fire. Running to the door, he pulled it open, and was almost burned alive as a sudden jet of flame shot out.

Dodging the flames, he waited until they subsided before yelling into the building. "Baloo" he hollered, cupping his hands over his mouth. "Papa Bear" There was no answer. Frantic, trying to think of what to do, Kit realized that if Baloo were inside he would've answered. Suddenly, none other than Wildcat came running out from inside, his clothes on fire.

"Yeeeeeeeow" he hollered. "Hot, hot, hot, hot" He quickly fell to the ground and began to roll around to put out the flames. After making sure the lion mechanic was still breathing - and he was, thankfully, not seriously injured at all - Kit shook him.

"Wildcat! What happened" he shrieked, tears welling up in his eyes. "Where's Baloo"

Sitting up and rubbing his head groggily, Wildcat said"I-I dunno. Some guys... I saw 'em loadin' stuff into the car and I ran inside to look for Baloo, but I couldn't find him! I-I think they musta taken him with 'em"

"We've gotta get help" Hurrying away from the swiftly-burning building, the bear cub ran, as fast as his feet would carry him, to the nearest telephone he knew of, to call the fire department...

The next morning, Rebecca Cunningham was fixing breakfast and waiting for Molly to finish getting awake, so she could send her daughter off to school and get to Higher For Hire and see whether or not Wildcat had finished repairing the Sea Duck. They had some important deliveries to make to Macadamia. She was just about to go and see whether or not Molly, in her reluctance to attend school, had fallen back asleep, when there was a knock at the door.

She went to answer it, and found a pair of men wearing trenchcoats. One of them was a pig, the other an alligator. "Miss Rebecca Cunningham" the alligator asked.

"Yes"

"Rebecca Cunningham who owns, uh" the alligator paused and looked down at a scrap of paper with something hastily jotted down on it that Rebecca couldn't really make out"who owns, uh, Higher For Hire"

This didn't bode well, Rebecca realized. "Yes, that's me. What's this all about? Who are you two"

They exchanged glances. The pig said, in an unusually high voice"Miss Cunningham, I'm Detective Glover, and this my partner Detective Gibson." He gestured to the alligator, who gave a small nod, stuffing the scrap of paper into his coat pocket. "We're with the police department." To prove their point, they both took out their wallets and flipped them open, letting Rebecca see their badges. Almost as an afterthought, she noted that both badges identified the two detectives as "registered lethal weapons."

"We've got some terrible news" said Gibson as he and Glover returned their wallets to their pockets.

"Well, quit stalling and tell me" Rebecca snapped.

Once again, the pair exchanged uneasy glances, and finally Glover said"Ma'am, we're going to have to ask you to come with us. Higher For Hire burned to the ground early this morning..."


	4. Investigation

Higher For Hire was still slouldering by the time Rebecca Cunningham drove to the docks. Detective Glover had insisted that she accompany him and Detective Gibson in their car, but Rebecca had insisted right back that she drive herself, so instead she followed the detectives.

They were waiting for her when she arrived. Molly was in the car with her; Rebecca had let her come as she knew there was no way she'd be able to convince her daughter to attend school on a day like this. Likewise, her efforts to persuade Molly to remain in the car were futile, so the 11-year-old followed close at her mother's heels as she approached the two detectives, who were conversing with a uniformed skunk policeman. They were whispering, and although Rebecca couldn't make out what they were saying, she could see that the policeman was gesturing to Kit and Wildcat standing nearby as he spoke.

All conversation between the three halted as Rebecca arrived. As Rebecca spoke, she tried her best to keep her gaze focused on the detectives and not look at the ruins of Higher For Hire, the business she'd worked so hard to get off the ground and had run for more than five years. It was all she could do to fight back the tears she knew were struggling to break free. Finally, addressing Detective Glover, she said, "Well?"

"Well, ma'am," Glover said, then paused and removed his fedora. Gibson and the third officer did the same, all three of them looking like mourners at a funeral. Which was appropriate, Rebecca thought, seeing as how her business was now pretty much dead. Glover continued, "Well, ma'am, the fire department got the call at about six this mornin', and got her as soon as they could, but..."

Rebecca nodded as the alligator trailed off, finally forcing herself to look at what was left of Higher For Hire, which wasn't much really. The building itself was almost completely gone. She could see some fire fighters investigating the wreckage, apparently trying to determine the cause of the fire. Despite this, Rebecca asked Glover, "Do they know what caused the fire?"

Glover returned his fedora to his head as he became all business once again. "Well, the fire chief said it was definitely arson. The fire started really quick, and was so big that even though they got here in time, there was nothing the firemen could do."

"Arson!" Rebecca gasped. Her mind reeled so much she actually had to reach up and place a hand to her temple, and she felt faint. Sensing this, Detective Gibson immediately came forward and gently took her by the arms. "Oh, my God..."

"Miss Cunningham, do you need to lie down?" asked Gibson. Rebecca could tell that the pig detective was the younger of the two, probably still a rookie. Warm sympathy flowed from the plain-clothes officer's mouth.

"No, you idiot!" Rebecca snapped, making Gibson jump back in surprise and slam into the uniformed skunk behind him. "How could I possibly lie down at a time like this!"

She suddenly felt something tugging at her pants leg and look down to find Molly looking up at her with wide eyes. "Mommy," she said, "please don't yell at the nice men. They only want to help."

Rebecca immediately regretted shouting at Gibson. The detectives were showing her nothing but kindness and understanding, and she had no right to snap at them this way. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Gibson," she said to the pig, who nodded to let her know he understood. "It's just that, I can't believe someone could do this!"

"It's all right, Miss Cunningham," Gibson replied, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

"And that's a very good question, too," said Glover. "Because the news just keeps coming. You may have noticed us deep in conversation with Officer Creelevard here when you drove up?" Rebecca nodded as Glover gestured to the skunk policeman. "Well, young Master Cloudkicker back there claims he saw the guys who did this. He says he got a real good look at 'em, too." Rebecca swallowed, looking over at Kit who was still standing alongside Wildcat, looking on as Rebecca was speaking with the three policemen, and suddenly she began to wonder where Baloo was.

"Now," Gibson said, taking a notepad and pencil from inside his trenchcoat, poised to begin jotting stuff down, "here comes the fun part. Since the fire chief said it was deliberate arson, Detective Glover and I need to know... do you have any enemies? The kid saw the goons, but it'll help our investigation immensely if you could help us put names to those faces."

Meanwhile, Molly wandered over to where Kit and Wildcat were. Kit was sitting on the ground, hugging his knees to his chest. He wasn't crying, but Molly could tell he had been recently. Wildcat patted the youth's head. "Hey don't worry, Kit," he said, "I'm sure that Baloo's fine."

Kit nodded absently as Molly approached. He felt miserable, to say the very least. Today was the day he was supposed to go and get his pilot's license, and instead he was wallowing in misery having lost both his Papa Bear and Higher For Hire. What bothered him the most about the whole situation, though, was that he had no idea who those three men were or why they would possibly want to burn down Higher For Hire. He, Baloo, and Miss Cunningham had their fare share of enemies, but none of them would ever be so bold or callous as to deliberately do something like this short of Don Karnage and the Sky Pirates. And not only were those idiots incapable of making it past the cliff guns except for once every blue moon, but Kit had been a member of the Sky Pirates and knew them all by name, and neither the rabbit last night nor his two canine companions looked familiar to Kit.

He briefly entertained the notion that perhaps Don Karnage had hired mercenaries, but quickly changed his mind. He knew Karnage, and Karnage did everything by himself and with his own men, or not at all. Kit finally decided not to dwell on it for now; seeing as how none of them had any clue who could want such horrible revenge on Higher For Hire, the best thing to do for the time being was to let the police handle.

"Kit?" Kit looked over to find Molly standing beside him. She hugged him. "I'm sorry about Baloo," she said. Kit nodded and returned the hug.

"Wildcat's right, though," Kit said as he stood up. "Wherever Baloo is, I'm sure he's fine. He probably chased after those goons and I just didn't see him."

At this point, Rebecca walked over with the two detectives trailing behind her. "Kit?" she said. "I've given Detective Gibson and Detective Glover the names of anyone who might want to hurt us, from Don Karnage to Trader Moe to that creep Covington. But since you and Wildcat are the only ones who saw them..." She paused, trailing off, her arm going around Molly and gently pulling her daughter to her. Kit knew what she was getting at anyway.

Regardless, Detective Glover said, "What she's saying, son, is that we want you and Mr. Wildcat to come with us down to the station and see if you can't identify these bozos."

"All right," he said. "Let's get this over with."

Later, at the police station, Kit was busy going through dozens and dozens of mugshots of various criminals. Some of them looked familiar, members of the Sky Pirates, Trader Moe and both of his goons, but he didn't recognize any of them as being the three from last night. He looked at the clock. It was almost noon; had everything gone smoothely, he would've been in the middle of his pilot's license test by now. He mentally scolded himself for being sad about THAT at a time like this, when Baloo was gone and poor Miss Cunningham had lost everything.

Wildcat, meanwhile, was going through the mugshots with a little more gusto than Kit was. He had s stack of about twelve of them in one hand. He'd look at one, toss it aside, examine another from every conceivable angle, and then discard that, until he was pretty much just digging through the photos and slinging them all over the place, going, "No. Nope. That's not him. Nuh-uh."

"Mr. Wildcat," said Detective Gibson. The young detective was sitting across the table from both him and Kit, sans his trenchcoat and fedora, tie loosened, reminding Kit of a detective from one of those hard-boild crime drama movies, lazily sipping on a mug of coffee. "Could you please be a little neater? Chief Thursday will have my head if he comes in and finds the office looking like a mess."

Wildcat paused in the middle of his work, then turned and looked at all the mugshots on the floor, and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry," he said, rubbing his head. "But anyway, none of these ugly pictures any of the three guys I saw last night." As he said "three," he held up four fingers, making Gibson roll his eyes.

"What about you, kiddo?" the pig detective asked.

Kit sighed, shaking his head. "Nope. I mean, a lot of these guys look familiar, but none of them aree the ones I saw last night, or the guy who followed me home from school."

Gibson sighed, looking extremely frustrated. If HE was frustrated, Kit could imagine how Miss Cunningham must be feeling. She had been unable to attend, having gone down the bank to see about Higher For Hire's insurance to see if they were covered by fire. Kit hoped to high heaven that they were.

Detective Glover walked in at this point, and that state of his clothing mirrored Gibson's. He, too, sipped on some coffee. "How'd it going, guys?" he asked. No one answered, and the alligator stood there in the doorway, looking at the mugshots strewn all over the office and the disappointed expressions on the other three. "That bad, huh?"

Kit nodded. "I'm sorry, Detective Glover," he said.

"Hey, don't sweat it, kid," the alligator said, walking over to Kit and patting him on the shoulder. He took his fedora off and put it on the young bear's head, and then sat down beside Gibson across from them. Kit smiled, pushing the brim of the hat back with his thumb.

"Well," said Glover finally, "it was worth a shot. But I guess that not every single scumbag you guys have tangled with in Cape Suzette is on our list, unless your forgeting somebody. Thanks for coming down anyway, you two. Even though we ain't got a clue who we're supposed to be looking for, you can tell Miss Cunningham that Detective Gibson and I will do our best to get to the bottom of them."

"We don't want to trouble you boys any more," added Gibson. "So why don't you run along home?"

Kit nodded, getting up and removing the fedora and handing it back to Detective Glover. As he and Wildcat neared the door, Wildcat suddenly stopped, a finger to his chin in thought.

"Uh, hey, Mr. Detective, sir?" he asked. He turned back to the two detectives, who were already down on their hands and knees gathering up the multitude of discarded mugshots. They stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him. "I, uh, I just remembered. Does it help at all it I managed to overhear their names...?"


	5. Getting Comfortable

Detective Glover and Detective Gibson stood in openmouthed amazement at Wildcat's sudden revelation that he had overheard the names of the criminals who had burned down Higher For Hire. "Why didn't you mention this when you came in?" Glover demanded to know.

"Uh, you never asked?" Wildcat responded with a little shrug. Standing beside him, Kit groaned and palmed his face.

After telling Gibson to finish picking up the mugshots, Glover approached Wildcat and stood before the lion mechanic with his hands on his hips. The alligator said, "All right, then, Mr. Wildcat. Let's hear it."

"Hear what?" Wildcat said, suddenly cupping a hand over his left ear as though listening for some distant noise. Kit's tugging on his sleeve made him look down at the cub.

"The names you overheard!" Kit hissed.

"Oh! Oh, yeah! Silly me!" Wildcat blurted, smakcing himself in the head and laughing. Kit thought that whatever faults Wildcat had, he never lacked the ability to make fun of himself. "Okay, uh, let's see, I think I might've heard the name 'Case,' y'know, like this is a police case, or a case like ya put somethin' in?"

"Gibson!" Glover suddenly said, and the pig detective dropped what he was doing, literally, spilling mugshots all over the office floor once more as he rushed to the elder detective's side. "Take this down!"

"Yes, sir!" Gibson said, patting himself down and taking out a notepad and pencil. He quickly wrote down something. "Okay, uh, 'Case,' like in 'police case' or-"

Glover's heavy sigh cut him off. "Just the names, Gibson. Just the names." Turning to Wildcat again, he said, "Please continue."

"Okay, uh, I'm thinkin', I'm thinkin', gimme a second. I was kinda on fire at the time, so, uh... Ah-ha! I only heard one of the other guys' names! It was, uh, 'Sparky!'"

Gibson wrote that down, too, then suddenly Glover's eyes lit up and he jumped for joy, snapping his fingers. "I should've known! Be right back!" With that, he rushed from the office. Kit and Wildcat looked questioningly at Gibson, who shrugged. A moment later, Glover returned with two more mugshots. "Kept these in a special file. See, we were lookin' for the wrong guys! Career criminals, pirates, that sort of thing. Mercenaries never entered into my mind for some reason."

"Mercenaries?" Kit gasped, reaching up and scratching his head underneath his well-worn baseball cap. He watched as Detective Glover spread the two mugshots out on the tabletop, revealing them to be of a bulldog and a hound, both glowering menacingly. Suddenly Kit lunged forward and pointed at the one of the hound. "That's him, that's him! That's the guy that was following me home from school the other day!"

"Jethro Creedle," Glover said. "And his partner is Sparky Barvoets."

Wildcat laughed and snapped his fingers. "Ha-ha! Sparky! See? I told ya?"

Ignoring Wildcat, Glover continued, "We've never had too much trouble with either of them, since it's rare they pull off anything big. They mostly deal in kidnapping and extortion-for-hire."

"That must be what happened to Baloo!" exlaimed Kit, realiztion dawning on him.

"Bingo!" Glover said. "Now, if we can just find out who this guy Case is, we'll really have something to go on. To do that, though, we're gonna have to head on down to Leroy's Tavern!" Glover quickly grabbed his trenchcoat off the coatrack by the office door, pulling it on. "Gibson? You take young Master Cloudkicker home or wherever it is he wants to go. Don't leave his side whatever you do! There's a chance that Barvoets and Creedle might try and grab him again, too!"

"Right," said Gibson.

"Mr. Wildcat? You're comin' with me," Glover said to Wildcat.

"Oh, boy!" squealed Wildcat, clapping his hands. He then paused, blinking. "Uh, where are we goin'?"

"To pay ol' Leroy a visit, just as soon as I can get in to see Chief Thursday about this, 'cause I got a bad feeling. A really bad feeling."

"Comfortable, Baloo?" were the first words Baloo heard when he finally regained consciousness. The first thing he noticed was that he was sitting in a wooden chair, to which he was being tied by the bulldog and hound goons he'd seen last night.

"Tell me if the rope's too tight," the bulldog said, and tightened the rope enough to make Baloo wheeze in slight pain.

"Wh-where am I?" the bear asked, dazed. Looking around, Baloo could see they were in a cheap motel room or boarding house of some sort. Once the two goons were finished tying him securely to the chair, giving the pilot some unwelcome flashbacks to the last time he was kidnapped, the stepped back to reveal Jack Case lounging comfortably in an identical chair opposite.

"You're safe," Jack said, sipping on a bottle of orange soda pop. "For the time being."

Baloo growled. He remembered this two-timing rabbit from five years ago. The one who'd lied about being a spy, and gotten them into all that trouble in Thembria. "What are you doin' here, Case?" he snarled, pulling uselessly at the ropes which bound him to the chair. "Last time I saw you, you were still tryin' to deliver that stupid box of 'expensive fishing worms' to the High Marshall."

Jack took a long swig of his soda before setting it aside on the nearby table. Rising from his chair, he motioned to the two goons. "Out," he said.

"But Mr. Case," began the bulldog, looking at Baloo nervously. It was obvious he didn't like the idea of leaving his employer alone with the bear, who was as big and strong as he was.

"No buts! Wait for me in the hall," Jack growled, grabbing the two hulking canines by the scruffs and shooing them out the door, slamming it shut after them. "Sorry about that," he said to Baloo. "They're not the brightest crayons in the box, especially Jethro. Now then, what were you saying?"

"I said, what are you up to, Case?" Baloo demanded, still glaring at the rabbit.

Jack laughed. "It should be obvious even to you, Baloo. I've hired some vicious criminals to assist me in taking my long-delayed revenge against you, Miss Cunningham, and Higher For Hire. Which burned to the ground, by the way." He shook his head, clucking his tongue. "Tsk-tsk-tsk. What a shame."

"R-revenge!" snarled Baloo, incredulous. "Revenge for what! We never did anything to you!"

Up until this point the gray-furred rabbit had been civil, but at Baloo's outburst his expression darkened considerably, and with a snarl uncharacteristic of rabbits, he lunged forwards and seized Baloo by his shirt collar, shaking him roughly. "Don't you DARE sell me that hogwash! Don't you dare! Not after I spent FIVE YEARS rotting in Bedevilled Island Maximum Security Prison, all thanks to you and that she-devil Rebecca!"

Baloo blinked. This was news to him. "But, we didn't-"

"YOU didn't. But Rebecca did. She told them I was a spy!" Releasing Baloo, Jack actually danced merrily away from the tied-up bear, twirling around like a ballet dancer as he continued. He was obviously insane, Baloo thought. "No matter what I told them, nevermind that the box had fishing worms and not a bomb, I was locked away, caged like an animal! All because of... her!"

"Look, Case- Er, I mean Jack. Yeah, Jack. Look, buddy, there's gotta be an easier way to do this..."

"Sorry," said Jack, opening a drawer in the table and removing a bottle of clear liquid and a white handkerchief. "But it's already gone too far. I have a son, you know. Here in Cape Suzette. I don't know where he is now after five years, and even if I found him again, I doubt he'd want anything to do with dear old Dad."

In spite of his rage at being kidnapped and having Higher For Hire destroyed, this revelation about Jack Case suddenly made Baloo feel ill. He'd never entertained the idea that Jack might have had a family. "I-I'm sorry..."

"Not as sorry as you're gonna be," Jack sneered, and proceeded to lightly soak the handkerchief in the clear liquid. "Now then, my associates and I have to go and pay Miss Cunningham a visit. I need both of them to assist me, so I can't leave anyone to guard you. Hence... it's naptime again for Baloo."

He walked over and covered Baloo's mouth and nose with the soaked cloth, and instantly the room began to spin and Baloo passed out for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. This was shaping up to be a really, really bad day.


	6. Revelations

Ernie Grapple waited in the malt shop with his three friends Skip Case, Orville Jenning, and Humphrey Huge, who were a rabbit, stork, and hippo respectively. Today was the day that Kit Cloudkicker was supposed to have completed his pilot's license course with the old creep, "Love to Flunk 'Em" Throgmorton.

Ernie and the gang had planned to meet Kit at the malt shop afterwards to celebrate, as Ernie was certain that Kit of all people could complete that course with even "Love to Flunk 'Em Throgmorton as his instructor. After all, he'd learned from the best, and although there was a time when Ernie would have mocked Kit for idolizing a simple cargo plane pilot like Baloo, the lanky hyena and his three cohorts had come to respect Baloo after he saved his life from that loony scientist, Dr. Axelotte.

But now, as it was getting on noon, they sat at their usual table by the window - Frank the soda jerk was nice enough to reserve it for them - but there was no sign of Kit. A bunch of empty and half-empty malt glasses and sundae bowls sat on the table, that the four teens had ordered so they could have something to slurp on to pass the time.

"So where is he?" Humphrey finally said, breaking the silence finally. Until he spoke the only sounds had been Skip sucking noisily on his straw. Orville, for his part, didn't say a word and looked half-asleep.

"You already asked that like five times, genius," said Ernie, "and like I told ya before, I don't know. When are you gonna quit askin'?"

"Until he shows up, stupid," said the hippo, indignant as he got from his chair and went to the counter. "I'm gonna buy me another soda."

"Get me one, too!" said Skip, sucking noisily on his straw again and prompting Ernie to snatch the decidedly empty glass away from him.

The light brown rabbit was the youngest member of the group at only 15, having joined the gang back when their Jungle Aces days were nearing their twilight. Although he was so young, he and Kit had let him join mostly out of sympathy because his father had run out on him, or so the story went. The rabbit currently bunked with Ernie's family.

It was only two years after Skip, or "Skippy" as they once called him, joined that they decided they were too old for a "club" like the Jungle Aces, prompting Ernie to, somewhat pompously, declare them an official "gang" now. Gone were the cooking pots and colanders, in was casual dress.

"You keep eatin' those things and you're gonna explode!" Ernie said, prodding Skip in the stomach lightly with his finger.

As Humphrey was returning with three more sodas on a tray - two for himself and one for Skip - Kit finally came into the malt shop. Ernie was amazed he'd actually gotten there at all. A minute later, a pig wearing a trenchcoat and fedora entered the shop and stood behind the young bear, looking mildly intimidating.

"Kit!" he exclaimed. "Where in the heck have YOU been! We've been waitin' all day for ya! What happened to celebratin' you gettin' your pilot's license?"

Kit looked listless. "Sorry, guys," he said, his voice barely a whisper as he looked down at the floor.

"Well, how'd it go?" asked Humphrey, serving the new round of sodas.

Ernie said, "You didn't flunk the test didja?"

Kit shook his head, "I never even took the test." Before his friends could respond, he told them the whole story. About how he'd been followed home from school, about how Baloo had gone missing, and about had happened to Higher For Hire. The four boys were speechless. "I missed the test 'cause I was busy looking at photos trying to pick out the three bozos that did it," he finished as he went and sat at the counter.

Ernie pointed at the pig, "And who's this joker?"

"Detective Gibson," the pig replied, pulling out his wallet and allowing the teens to see his badge. "I've been assigned as young Master Cloudkicker's escort due to potential danger to his physical well-being."

"Say what?" Humphrey asked, blinking.

"He means he's Kit's bodyguard, stupid," said Skip.

"Eh, basically," said Gibson, stuffing his wallet back into the pocket of his coat. "But only temporarily."

He then walked to the counter and sat beside Kit, as Frank served them both sodas. Gibson immediately set to work on his, while Kit didn't touch the one the soda jerk placed in front of him. He was too miserable to think of food, and he wished Detective Gibson would just go away. In the back of his mind, he understood the need for the detective's presence at his side for the time being, but at the moment Gibson was a painful reminder of what had happened.

Similarly, he wasn't that keen on Ernie and the gang being there, and found himself wondering what he was doing in the malt shop in the first place. Finally, he took a sip of the soda, and felt a little better.

"Case, Case, Case," he said quietly to himself, trying to place the name, but couldn't. Although he had every confidence in the police, he couldn't just sit here and do nothing, waiting for those crooks to make another grab at him. He had to do something; anything! he HAD to know the identity of this mysterious foe that had intruded upon his life and taken away his chance to fly AND his Papa Bear! He turned to his "baby-sitter," and cleared his throat. "Detective Gibson?"

"Hmm?" Gibson said, in the middle of drinking his soda. After swallowing he said, "What is it?"

"How exactly does this whole bodyguard thing work? I mean, do I have to do what you say, or do you just follow me around wherever I go?"

"That depends," the pig detective replied. "You only have to follow my orders if your life is in immediate danger. Say one of those creeps, either Creedle or Barvoets, came in here lookin' to snatch you. Then if I told you to run and hide, you'd have to. Otherwise, yeah, I guess you're free to go wherever you want to, provided that I accompany you no matter what."

Kit pondered this for a second. "All right," he said, "then I wanna go back to Higher For Hire, or... at least what's left of it."

"Why? What for?" Gibson asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, what for?" Ernie chimed in as he, Skip, Orville, and Humphrey suddenly crowded around Kit and the detective.

"I need to check something out," Kit replied as he got up from his seat and headed for the door.

Grumbling, Gibson hurriedly threw some shaboozies at Frank and got up, hurrying after his young charge. "Look, kiddo," he said as he finally caught up to him on the sidewalk outside, "the whole 'do what the bodyguard says' thing also implies to perceived dangers. You wanna play junior detective, fine, but I'd prefer you not go back someplace that the perpetrators have already visited."

"Humor me," Kit said sourly, narrowing his eyes at the pig. "Why would they come back to a burned-down building crawling with cops?"

Gibson scratched his head under his fedora. "Okay, you got a point, kid, I'll give ya that. All right, I'll drive ya back to Higher For Hire, but at the first sign of trouble we split, got it?"

"Got it," Kit said, smiling.

As he and Gibson were walking to the detective's unmarked car, Ernie came trotting out of the malt shop, with Skip, Orville, and Humphrey hot on his heels. "Wait for us!" he hollered, making Kit and Gibson turn. "We're going too!"

"Yeah!" the other three said in unison contemptuously, making Kit smile despite his glum mood. Some things never changed.

"Aw, no!" protested Gibson, holding his hands up. "No way! I'm not gonna be responsible for all you boys!"

"No way, copper," said Ernie. In a flash, he and the others were piled into the back seat of the detective's car. "Kit's our buddy! And besides, this is all way too good not to check out first-hand!"

Gibson groaned and palmed his face. He didn't have time for this. There was no way he could force all four teenagers out of his car, and he'd look foolish calling for backup in a case like this. Finally, he gave in. "Fine," he muttered. "But like I told Kit; first sign of trouble and we vamoose. ALL of us. Got it?"

After the four boys had shouted unanimously in excited agreement, Gibson and Kit got into the car. Gibson started the motor, and they were off. Detective Gibson was a good guy, Kit thought. He hoped nothing did happen that would require the detective to put his life on the line for him, and although Kit was conflicted about potentially placing his caretaker into harm's way, there was something he HAD to check for. The name "Case" rang a bell, and there was one thing he was sure could potentially shed some light onto the situation, and it was in Papa Bear's old newspaper collection.

Meanwhile, halfway across town, Detective Glover and Wildcat arrived at Leroy's.

As they got out of the car, Wildcat looking at the sign above the entrance and asked, "Who's Leroy?"

"He owns this dump," Glover said contemptuously as he walked around to the trunk of the car and opened it. Reaching inside, he removed a trenchcoat and hat. "I always keep a spare in case of emergencies," the alligator detective said. Suddenly he tossed the articles of clothing at Wildcat, who caught them. "Put these on," Glover instructed as he closed the trunk, then approached the entrance to the tavern.

"Uh, why?" asked Wildcat even as he was putting the fedora on his head and slipping on the trenchcoat.

"Because, since I don't have my partner with me you'll have to substitute," Glover explained as he removed his revolver, checked it, then returned it to his shoulder holster concealed under his coat. "Just don't say anything or do anything."

"Right," said Wildcat, turning the collar of the trenchcoat up and buttoning it to hide the fact he was wearing mechanic's coveralls instead of the usual dress shirt and tie normally associated with plain-clothes officers. "Wow," he said, "I feel like Humphrey Dogart in this getup."

Glover stared at him for a moment, fighting back the urge to burst out laughing at the mechanic, who was obviously enjoying himself. "Okay, let's go," he said.

And with that, they entered Leroy's. Leroy's only really came alive at night, and during the day was actually pretty dull. The only customers in the pub right now were a pelican and a couple of badgers, obviously seamen or dockworkers from the nearby dock district. Leroy himself was nowhere in sight. Instead, a scruffy-looking hyena was behind the bar. He eyed the two trenchcoat-clad figures as they approached.

"What can I do ya for, fellas?" he rasped.

"I'm lookin' for Leroy," Glover responded, fixing the hyena with a cold stare. "My, uh, partner and I wanna have ourselves a little sit-down with 'im."

"Yeah," said Wildcat, trying to sound intimidating.

Suddenly Leroy appeared from out of the back room Glover knew he used as an office, and was visibly startled to see the detective here. Scowling, the large moose walked behind the bar, motioning the hyena aside. "It's okay, Jimmy," he said, then turned and gave Glover a disarming smile. "Well, well, well," he said, "if it ain't Detective Glover. What's it been? Two years? And I see you got yourself a new partner, too. Although by the look of him I'd say he was a rookie."

"Oh, yeah," Wildcat said, grinning from ear to ear, "I just started today in fact."

Leroy raised a brow at this, then turned his attention back to Glover. "Can I offer you a drink on the house, Detective?"

"Can it with the pleasantries, Leroy," the alligator said, "I don't exactly have time to shoot the breeze with you, so I'll be blunt: I need some information."

"Oh really? What about" Leroy put his massive hands on the bar and leaned over closer to Glover. Wildcat suddenly felt uneasy noticing how big Leroy was, even for a moose. He looked like he could clobber the both of them without much effort.

"Sparky Barvoets and Jethro Creedle are wanted for questioning in a pretty nasty case of arson that happened last night," replied Glover.

Even Wildcat noted the brief glint of recognition in the moose's eye at the mention of those names. "And lemme gues," Leroy said, "you wanna know where they are, right?"

"Not exactly. I happen to know they're apparently been hired by somebody named 'Case,'" said Glover. He put his hands on the bar now and leaned forwards until the tip of his snout was a mere two inches from Leroy's nose. "The name doesn't ring any bells, by any chance, does it?"

"Nope," said Leroy flatly. "And anyway, why're you askin' me?"

"Because you have a pretty bad reputation for putting desperate people into contact with some pretty unscurpulous hired guns. Now, either you tell me what I wanna know, or else I'll have have the precinct down here before you can blink your one good eye. Savvy?"

"Why don't you crawl back to the filthy swamp you slithered out of, you disgusting reptile?" said Leroy, any pretense of friendliness gone now.

"That wasn't a nice thing to say!" Wildcat said, frowning. "You guys are mean! And mean people never get ahead in life. So c'mon, let's all sit down and be friends and talk over some coffee, whaddaya say?"

While Glover and Leroy were distracted looking at Wildcat in wide-eyed disbelief at this sudden statement from nowhere, Jimmy the hyena quickly reached underneath the counter and pulled out a shotgun. Wildcat, taking notice of this, shouted, "Uh-oh! Look out, Mr. Detective! He's got a gun!"

Even as Wildcat shouted his warning, Jimmy fired. Glover ducked, the buckshot ripping through the top of his hat. In the time it took Jimmy to re-cock the shotgun, Glover was already clambering over the countertop. With a fierce growl, the alligator jumped on the hyena and they both crashed to the floor. Wildcat couldn't see them because the bar was in the way, but he could hear them struggling.

Leroy suddenly grabbed a mostly-empty liquor bottle and stepped towards the two combatants, obviously intending to smash it over Detective Glover's head. Suddenly, he had Wildcat on his shoulders, the lion mechanic covering his eyes. "Hey!" he shouted. "II can't see! Get offa me you little freak!"

"Whee!" Wildcat shouted as Leroy stumbled around blindly, finally tripping and crashing to the floor and sending Wildcat skidding.

At this point, Glover popped up from behind the bar, now holding Jimmy's shotgun. He aimed it at Leroy as the big moose got to his feet. "Now," he said, "I'm only gonna ask you nicely once more: Who did you put in contact with Sparky Barvoets and Jethro Creedle?"

Leroy looked around worriedly. The pelican and badger customers rose from their table and quickly scampered out the door. Wildcat, climbing to his feet, looked around for something he could use as a weapon, grabbing a chair and holding it like a lion tamer.

"Okay, okay," Leroy panted. "I didn't get the guy's last name. But I overheard 'im introduce himself to Sparky and Jethro as 'Jack,' and there was a lotta suspicious talk about Thembria."

Jack Case sat in the back seat of the car he and his two goons had rented the day before. They were parked on the curb outside of the small grocery store that was just down the street from Rebecca Cunningham's apartment building. While they waited, Jack felt another migraine coming on, and took out his bottle of painkillers, dumping several of the pills into his hand and then stuffing them into his mouth, chewing them noisily.

After a time, Rebecca Cunningham did emerge from inside the store, carrying a large bag of groceries, followed by that little girl of hers whose name Jack didn't know, nor did he really care at the moment. Or so he thought. As the young bear cub held the door for the uniformed skunk police officer, who came out carrying two large bags of groceries, Jack found himself staring longingly at the child, wondering how his own offspring, Skippy, was doing.

Shaking his head, he told himself that as soon as he was done with his revenge he'd make an effort to track down his son ane re-establish their relationship. But right now, all that mattered was paying this woman and her fat, stupid pilot back for what they'd done to him.

"Is that her?" asked Sparky, sitting behind the wheel.

"Yeah, that's her," replied Jack, rubbing his hands together and actually licking his lips in anticipation, resisting the urge to let loose a mad cackle. "We'll follow her back to her apartment building, and then we'll grab her!"

"But what about the cop and the little girl?" asked Jethro, seated beside Sparky up front.

"Take the girl if you can, knock out the cop if you have to," Jack said, leaning forwards in his seat and prodding his finger into the back of Jethro's neck, making the hound yelp. "But remember, no killing!"

"Uh, rright, Mr. Case," whimpered Jethro.

Detective Gibson's car pulled to a halt near the burned-down ruin that once was Higher For Hire, and Kit and his friends piled out, followed by the detective.

"Wow!" exclaimed Ernie in disbelief, his jaw literally hanging open as he beheld the blackened, skeletal remains of Higher For Hire. "You weren't kiddin', it really did burn down! Whwhat kinda psycho could do somethin' like this?"

"That's we're gonna find out, I hope," Kit said.

Detective Gibson scratched his head. "Look, Kit, our forensics boys have already combed through the wreckage, and they didn't find a single clue about who this 'Case' guy might be!"

"Case?" said Skip suddenly, his long ears perking up, as this was the first time he'd heard the name of their mysterious enemy.

Kit ignored him, instead choosing to answer the detective. "I didn't come down here to come through the wreckage of Higher For Hire. Come on!" He motioned for his friends and Detective Gibson to follow him, as he jogged towards the small out-building that had originally been a storage building, but which Rebecca had been kind enough to have converted into a nice little house for him and Baloo, so they wouldn't have to continue living in the cramped upstairs quarters.

They went inside and Kit went straight into his and Baloo's bedroom and to Baloo's closet. Skip, bringing up the rear as the small group followed him into the room, said, "Wwait a minute Kit, you said the name of the guy was Case and he's a rabbit?"

"Yeah," said Kit, too preoccupied digging through the piles of dirty clothes to really make the connection that the young rabbit had. He was flinging junk everywhere; Ernie and the gang had to dodge old laundry, while Detective Gibson ended up practically buried alive in over a year's worth of Papa Bear's clothes. As Ernie and the others began to dig the detective free, Kit finally found what he was searching for. "Yes! I knew it was here! Oh, please don't let me down, Papa Bear. Tell me you kept that newspaper!"

"What newspaper?" asked Humphrey.

"Something about Thembria, if I remember correctly," replied Kit, and he was tossing other old newspapers all over the place, until he finally came up with a yellowed, somewhat torn-up issue of the Cape Suzette Times, showing a picture on the front page of the High Marshall of Thembria holding what looked like a jewelry box, but which the caption beneath the photograph identified as an "ornate fishing tackle box." "Eureka!" Kit shrieked with joy, then began to skim through the article. "Listen to this; 'The Slush Festival was briefly interrupted by what Colonel Ivanod Spigot of the Thembrian Air Force identified as a gang of international terrorists flying a Conwing L-16 cargo plane, destroying an ice sculpture of the great Thembrian folk hero Frostbite. Although they got away, one of them, Jack Case, was apprehended.' I knew it! Case! Jack Case! This is him, it's gotta be! It's"

He stopped himself when he noticed that everyone in the room was staring at Skip. The brown rabbit's eyes were wide, his lower lip trembling. Kit instantly realized the significance of this revelation, and knew what his friend was going to say even before he said it. "Mmy father's name was Jack..."


	7. Apartment Building Battle

"Come on, come on," Kit intoned as he stood in the phone booth, silently begging Miss Cunningham to pick up. He'd been trying for the past five minutes to reach her at her apartment, but nobody was answering. Where could she be? He hoped that with the policeman that Detective Glover had assigned to watch her, she would be safe, but he would feel a heck of a lot better if he could just get in touch with her and let her know that he knew - or at least thought he knew - who was behind the whole ordeal they were being put through.

As he waited impatiently in the phone booth, listening to the endless rings, Kit looked outside to where Detective Gibson and the others were waiting. Humphrey and Orville were both reading the newspaper article they'd driven all the way across town to get, while Ernie was doing his best to console an increasingly worried Skippy. Detective Gibson, for his part, was leaning against the front fender of his car, arms crossed, looking bored.

Finally, when Kit decided that there was no point in waiting for Miss Cunningham to pick up the phone, he hung up and exited the booth.

"Any luck?" asked Ernie.

"No," replied Kit, scratching the back of his head. "She must be out."

"Yeah, well, so am I," said Ernie, patting himself down, "of nickels, anyway."

"If it's that important," said Detective Gibson suddenly, "why don't I just drive you boys to Miss Cunningham's apartment building?"

"I was just about to say something like that," Kit said, smiling.

His smile faded though when he heard a sniffle from Skip. The rabbit looked close to tears as he snatched the newspaper from Humphrey and Orville and read it over for the tenth time since hearing Jack Case's name. "I just can't believe this is what happened to my dad," he said, then pointed an accusing finger at Kit, "and you never told me!"

"Hey, hey, hey," Kit said, holding his hands up defensively. "I never knew what your dad's first name was, okay? 'Case' is a pretty common last name in Cape Suzette. In fact, so is 'Jack,' which means it might not be your dad after all."

Skip stared longingly at the article for a moment longer, as if it were actually a picture of his missing father. On the one hand, Kit hoped he was right, and that his friend's father wasn't the Jack Case responsible for all this trouble, as it would break Skip's heart, but on the other, if it didn't turn out to be the same Jack Case as his father, it would mean he'd never know for sure precisely what had become of his dad.

Kit's thoughts were interrupted by Detective Gibson. "Well, regardless, I think we should quit lollygagging and get on over to Miss Cunningham's apartment and let her know that this Case guy has got it in for her."

"Right," said Kit.

Together, they all piled into Gibson's car, Skippy bringing the newspaper with him.

"Thank you so much, Officer Creelevard," Rebecca said as she, Molly, and the policeman rode the elevator up to the floor of the apartment building where they lived.

"No trouble at all, ma'am," Creelevard said, holding a bag of groceries in each arm.

After telling Detective Glover and Detective Gibson everything she possibly could, Rebecca had gone straight home with Molly, who was currently holding a miniature grocery bag of her own as she had insisted on her mother at the store. Detective Glover had been insistent, as well, that Officer Creelevard accompany Rebecca and Molly home, just in case the criminals responsible for Higher For Hire's destruction tried to get her while she was at home.

However, Rebecca had flat-out refused to simply sit in her apartment and wait for something to happen. She had to do something, anything, to keep herself occupied, so she had talked Officer Creelevard into letting her leave the house to go to the bank, and then to the market.

She hadn't paid much attention to the strange car that seemed to be shadowing them as they walked down the street, until it burned rubber and sped on ahead, with Creelevard remarking that the driver was asking for a speeding ticket. Neither she nor the officer had noticed the same car parked outside the apartment building when they arrived. But who could blame them? There were a thousand cars exactly like it throughout Cape Suzette.

Rebecca almost regretted that she'd gotten her shopping done, because it meant that once they got back to the apartment and put up all the groceries, she'd have nothing to do but sit and wait for either Glover or Gibson to call with some news about the case.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open open her floor, and Rebecca walked to the door. After unlocking it, she went inside, Molly and Officer Creelevard close behind her. Immediately Rebecca sensed that something was wrong. The lights were off and the curtains were closed. She'd left the lights on and the curtains open when they'd left earlier, of that she was certain. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Officer Creelevard suddenly looked suspicious as well. She was about to ask the officer whether or not they should leave when when suddenly someone else was in the room with them, slamming the front door closed.

Officer Creelevard spun, dropping one of his grocery bags, and Rebecca heard a muffled smacking sound, like someone being hit. Sure enough, Creelevard went stumbling backwards past her, crashing into an armchair and flipping it - and himself - over, spilling groceries everywhere. She heard Molly scream.

Dropping her own bag, Rebecca ran to a table lamp and turned it on. It didn't illuminate the entire room, just the foyer, but that was all Rebecca needed to see. She beheld two enormous canines, a hound and a bulldog, wearing fedoras and trenchcoats, standing between her and the front door. The hound was holding a squirming and whimpering Molly in the air by the back of her shirt. Rebecca's heart leapt into her throat.

The bulldog spoke first. "Rebecca Cunningham, I presume," he said.

Rebecca nodded shakily, unsure of how to express with words the feelings of anger and fear that mixed inside her. Without a doubt, these were the ones responsible for burning down Higher For Hire, and now they had come into her home, and had her daughter.

"Thought so," the bulldog said, grinning. He walked towards her, reaching out with enormous hands that looked capable of crushing her head like a grapefruit.

She backed up, almost tripping over the prone form of Officer Creelevard, who was laying unmoving alongside the overturned armchair. For a moment, Rebecca thought, irrationally, that the policeman was dead. "Officer Creelevard," she whispered, desperately, more out of her sudden fear that he was more than just knocked out than her desire to be rescued. "Wake up!"

But the policeman did not respond. Speaking of grapefruits, she tripped on exactly that, one of the many items that hd spilled from the numerous dropped grocery bags. With a cry, she fell backwards and landed on her backside. She looked up to find the bulldog standing over her. He looked ten feet tall in the dim light.

"You're comon' with us," he said.

"Yeah," added the hound, who hadn't moved from where he stood by the door. "Or else the little girl gets it!"

Rebecca felt her anger overtaking her fear. "You leave Molly alone!" she yelled.

Molly, meanwhile, wasn't about to go quietly. As she dangled in the hound's grip, she suddenly declared, "This looks like a job for Danger Women!"

"Danger Woman?" the hound said, blinking. He suddenly smiled. "Hey, I love that show! it's really nea" He was cut off as Molly's teeth suddenly sank into his hand, making him shriek and drop her to the floor. "YEEEEOOOOOWWWW!"

Molly landed hard at her ex-captor's feet, but shook the dizziness off and stood. The hound was jumping up and down, clutching his bitten hand and whimpering, muttering curses under his breath. Molly quickly kicked him in the knee, and down he went with a loud thud, crashing to the floor. In response, the bulldog spun around around, wide-eyed, giving Rebecca the opportunity she needed. She was on her feet in a flash, and jumped onto the goon's back, yanking his fedora down over his eyes, and began to pound her fists into his head.

"Hey! I can't see!" he yelled. "Ow! Stop that!"

"Molly! Run!" Rebecca yelled as the bulldog tried unsuccessfully to pull her off of himself.

Molly looked indecisive. "But, mommy"

"Do as I say!" Rebecca screamed, harshly. She'd apologize for yelling at her. Right now she wanted her daughter out of this apartment NOW.

Beside Molly, the hound was sitting up, shaking his head. This was all the persuasion Molly needed, as she bolted for the door, turned the knob, and was in the hall. As she went, she yelled over her shoulder, "Don't worry, mommy! Danger Woman will get reinforcements!"

At that very moment, Jack Case was waiting in the back seat of the rented car parked outside the apartment building, checking his watch and wondering how long it was going to take those two idiots to grab that one woman. He'd ducked down out of sight when she, her daughter, and the cop had approached, and he did so again as Detective Glover and Wildcat pulled up in Glover's car, parking a little too close for comfort right alongside Jack's. 

All the talk about Thembria and a mysterious Mr. Case hiring Sparky Barvoets and Jethro Creedle made Glover suddenly anxious to check in on Creelevard and see how Rebecca Cunningham was doing.

"Wow," said Wildcat, still in his fedora and trenchcoat "disguise." "I could get used to this detective-type stuff, Mr. Glover. I hope we'll catch those bad guys real soon!"

"Me too," said Glover as they got out of the car and started towards the building. "Which is why I brought you along, remember?"

"Yeah," the lion mechanic replied. "'Cause I can identi-ma-fy the suspects. And believe me, Mr. Glover, I got a reeeeeeally good look at 'em." To emphasize, he pulled his lower eyelid down so his eyeball bulged creepily from its socket.

Suddenly, none other than little Molly Cunningham came out, tears flowing from her eyes. "Wildcat!" she said, suddenly smiling with what looked like mixed joy and relief, running and leaping into the mechanic's arms.

"Molly-cat!" Wildcat said, hugging her. "What's wrong, why're you crying?"

"There's two bad men in our apartment!" she said breathlessly. "Thethey're after mommy!"

Wildcat looked questioningly at Detective Glover, who suddenly reached into his trenchcoat and pulled his revolver. "Come on!" he said, and rushed for the emergency stairs. "We'll take the stairs! No way these goons would use the elevator!"

"You wait here, Molly-cat," Wildcat said, setting Molly down gingerly. "We'll go save Rebecca for ya!"

He then turned and trotted after the detective, and the two disappeared around the corner of the building, headed, Molly knew, for the door where the emergency stairs were. Molly sniffled and rubbed her nose, worried sick, hoping that her mother would be all right.

Hearing a car door open and close, she turned and found herself looking at a slightly chubby rabbit wearing a suit and bowtie. Molly didn't like the way he smiled at her. He looked almost TOO friendly.

"Hello there, little girl," he said, crouching down to be at her level. "You don't need to worry about your mom. She'll he just fine." Then, almost to himself, his dark gray eyebrows furrowing angrily as he looked past her at the apartment building, he added, "She should be, anyway." His creepily friendly smiled was back again in an instant.

"Aare you a policeman, llike Mr. Glover?" Molly asked nervously.

The rabbit grinned widely, and nodded eagerly. "Uh, yeah! Exactly like Mr. Glover. I'm, uh, Detective Case... Y. Yeah, Detective Casey. Don't worry, you're safe with me." He suddenly reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.

"Where's your badge?" Molly suddenly demanded, backing away from him as she remembered how Detective Glover and Detective Gibson had shown her their badges.

"My what?" said "Casey," His eyes widened in surprise, but he recovered quickly. "I, er, left it at home."

But he wasn't quick enough for Molly. She backed up further. "You're not a policeman!" she said, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Yyou're one of the bad men!" She realized she was right when Jack's expression darkened and he became angry. She turned to run, then screamed as she was suddenly grabbed by the back of her shirt.

Back upstairs, Rebecca was still clinging to the bulldog's back. "Ow! Owie, owie, owie!" he yelped as Rebecca continued to pound on him. "Get this crazy dame offa me, Jethro!"

"Duh, okay Sparky!" Jethro, the hound, said, rushing forwards. He was much bigger than Sparky the bulldog, and Rebecca knew there was no way she could even hope to break away if he managed to get ahold of her, so she dismounted from Sparky, ducked under Jethro's swinging arms, and grabbed the table lamp she'd turned on earlier, and flung it at Jethro as he was in the process of spinning around to face her.

The lamp collided with his head and shattered, plunging the room into darkness again, although from the light flooding in through the open front door Rebecca could see as the big hound stumbled forwards and crashed into Sparky, sending both would-be kidnappers crashing to the floor.

She didn't wait to see whether or not she'd succeeded in knocking them out, turning and running through the front door and into the hallway, just about slamming into Wildcat and Detective Glover as they came running from the opposite direction.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Wildcat! DDetective Glover!"

"Hi, we're here to the rescue of, er, you," Wildcat said, grinning.

"Where are they?" Glover asked. Rebecca saw he had a revolver in his hand.

"In the apartment," she replied. "Where's Molly!"

"She's safe outside," Wildcat said.

But just at that moment, she heard the sound of scuffling feet and spun to see both huge goons come stumbling out into the hall, Jethro without his hat and rubbing his head groggily, while Sparky was still trying without success to pull his hat back up from over his eyes. Pointing at them, Jethro said, "There she is!"

"Run!" Detective Glover said, grabbing Rebecca by the sleeve and all but flinging her in the opposite direction as Jethro charged forwards, apparently having not noticed that Glover had a loaded gun. Rebecca did as she was told, and Jethro slammed into Glover, grabbing his arms and forcing him to point the gun up at the ceiling. The pistol went off, making Wildcat jump. He rushed at Jethro to help out the detective, but the hound saw him coming and backhanded the lion mechanic viciously across the snout.

"Ow!" Wildcat yelped and was flung into the wall hard, and the world for him went black as his head cracked into the wall. "Ooooh, look at all the shiny stars," he muttered before falling over onto the floor face-first.

The struggle over the revolver continued, and it discharged a second time, this time into the floor, dangerously close to the unconscious Wildcat's head.

"I can't see nothin'!" Sparky was saying, still unsuccessful in removing his fedora so he could see. "Who's shootin'!"

"The cop, you moron!" Jethro grunted as he and Glover continued to struggle over the gun. Finally, he succeeded in wrenching it from Glover's hands, and clubbed him over the head with it. The alligator detective gave a cry of pain and collapsed to the floor unconscious alongside Wildcat.

Rebecca heard the gunshots, but she kept running anyway. She took the stairs, not intending to leave herself open for attack by waiting for the elevator. She just hoped that it was Detective Glover doing the shooting and not the kidnappers. As soon as she was safely outside she began to wonder where Molly was. Glover had said she was "safe outside," but Rebecca saw no sign of her daughter out here.

"Molly?" she called, cupping her hands over her mouth. "Molly!"

"Don't worry," a voice from behind her said. "Molly's just fine." There was something familiar about that voice. Rebecca spun, and her heart began thudding in her chest so loudly she was afraid it might burst, as she beheld none other than Jack Case leaning casually against the side of the building.

"Hello, Rebecca," he said in a quasi-friendly manner, pushing off the wall and walking towards her. "Long time, no see. How've you been?"

"You! What are YOU doing here?" Rebecca demanded, backing away from the rabbit as he approached her, hands stuffed in his pockets and generally carrying himself as though he were an old friend come calling. "And where's Molly?"

Jack pointed to one of the two cars parked nearby, and Rebecca turned to see Molly sobbing inaudibly through the glass and pounding uselessly against the rear driver's side door window. "I locked her in my car because she was noisy."

"WHAT!" Rebecca shrieked, and was about to leap onto Jack but the rabbit was saved when suddenly Sparky and Jethro emerged from the stairwell, the former now having finally gotten his hat off from over his eyes. Rebecca was suddenly worried about what had become of Wildcat and Detective Glover, and she feared the worst.

Jack held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Don't worry," he reiterated. "She's unhurt, I assure you." He suddenly grinned evilly, and motioned to Sparky and Jethro. "And if you want her to stay that way, you'll do what I say."

Before Rebecca could even think about running, her arms were seized by the two goons. She struggled vainly for a moment before finally giving up. So, she thought, Jack Case was the one who had burned down Higher For Hire. But why? She knew why, but she just couldn't bring herself to admit it. "All right," she finally said. "Just please don't hurt my daughter."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Jack responded. Then he addressed Sparky and Jethro. "I think the lady will be riding in the back seat with me and the girl, boys. It's time she was reunited with her fat pilot friend." As the goons dragged Rebecca towards the car, Jack followed, rubbing his hands together with a maniacal gleam in his eyes. "Oh, after five years of waiting... my revenge will finally be complete!"

Even as Jack's car was pulling away, Detective Gibson's car pulled up to the apartment building. Before the car came to a complete stop, Kit, fearing the worst, threw open the passenger's side front door and jumped out, racing across the yard and riding the elevator to the Cunninghams' floor, without waiting for his friends or the detective to catch up to him. When the elevator doors opened, he was horrified by what he saw.

Wildcat and Detective Glover were both laying face-down on the floor. One of Rebecca's neighbors, an elderly duck who Kit remembered was named Mr. Haverson, was kneeling down beside Glover and gently shaking him, trying to revive him. Another neighbor who Kit had never seen before was tending to Wildcat. Kit ran over to him. "What happened!" he demanded, his heart thudding inside his chest.

"We don't know," said Mr. Haverson. "We just heard gunshots and the sound of some fighting and when we got here, we found these two laying in the hallway." He turned and looked down at Detective Glover. "This guy took a serious bump on the head and I can't wake him up."

Wildcat, meanwhile, slowly came around as the other neighbor shook him. "Uhh... wwatch out, Mr. Detective," he mumbled groggily, "that tall one's got a mean left hook..."

"Wildcat, you're okay!" said Kit, relieved.

"I'll go call the police!" the second neighbor said.

"Better call an ambulance, too, 'cause I still can't get this guy to wake up!" said Mr. Haverson, worriedly indicating the prone detective. The other neighbor nodded and took off like a flash. Kit returned his attention to Wildcat.

"Kit!" Wildcat said, rubbing his snout where Jethro had hit him. "Ththose guys... the ones who torched Higher For Hire... they were here, and they were after Miss Cunningham and Molly!"

Immediately, Kit looked at Rebecca's apartment door and saw it was wide open. Panicking, he left Wildcat's side and ran in, to find it dark. Immediately he fumbled for and found a lamp, and in doing so tripped over what he knew had to be a body.

After flicking on the light, he saw it was that uniformed skunk policeman from earlier. He groaned and shifted, filling Kit with relief that he was alive, but this did little to quell his fears for Miss Cunningham and Molly. He ran through the apartment, calling their names, but got no response. That's when he knew that they had to have been kidnapped. Kidnapped by Jack Case. Kit suddenly felt his knees go weak, and he fell into the nearest chair and cried.


	8. Molly Escapes

Baloo, still tied to the chair in Jack Case's flophouse motel room, had just succeeded in untying his last knot when the door flew open and Jack himself danced in. Baloo surpressed the urge to leap up and slug the rabbit across the face when those two dog goons brought Rebecca and Molly in with them and Jethro shut the door behind them. Dang, he thought. He'd have to wait to make his move.

"Yes!" Jack exulted joyously. "Yes, yes, yes, yes!" He pranced over to the writing desk in the corner and quickly threw off his hat and coat.

"Baloo!" Rebecca gasped, breaking away from Sparky and Jethro and rushing to the bound pilot's side and embracing him. Molly did the same. "I'm so glad you're okay! After the fire and we couldn't find you anywhere, I-I feared the worst."

"Hey, don't worry 'bout me, Becky. Ol' Baloo can handle himself against a couple of dime-store hoods and their crackpot boss," Baloo said, shooting a glare in the direction of Jack Case and his hired muscle.

"I'm sorry I let them catch me, Baloo," Molly said so sorrowfully that Baloo almost revealed that he was no longer really tied up by wrapping his arms around her to hug her, but he stopped himself.

"There, there," he said. "It's okay. Everything'll be fine."

Frowning indignantly, Jack motioned Sparky and Jethro forward. The two goons pulled Rebecca and Molly away from Baloo. "Of course it will," he said, "just as long as you all do exactly what I say." Then, to Sparky and Jethro, he said, "Tie them together to that chair," pointing to the only remaining chair in the room.

Sparky and Jethro exchanged uncertain glances. "Uh, but boss, if we do that, we won't have no more chairs, and then where will we sit?" inquired Jethro.

Jack stalked over. "Figure something out! Heck, stand up for all I care. That's why you've got legs, isn't it?" To drive his point home he kicked Jethro in the shin, making the hound yelp and begin hopping up and down on one foot, grabbing his injured leg.

While Jack was busy chewing out his underlings, Baloo was trying to think of something to do. He hand't counted on Molly being here, too, just Rebecca, so the bear cub added some unneeded complications to things. Meanwhile, Sparky and Jethro had tied Rebecca to her own chair, which they then scooted over to sit alongside Baloo's. They then put Molly into Rebecca's lap and looped another length of rope around the both of them, tying the cub to her mother, then dusted their hands off, looking satisfied.

"That's that," said Sparky.

"Good," said Jack. "Now, you and Jethro go and check on the car. It was making some strange noises coming back and I want it ready to go as soon as possible. I'll remain here to look after our friends."

"Sure thing, Mr. Case," Sparky said, then headed out the door with Jethro right behind him.

They closed the door behind them, leaving Jack alone with his three prisoners. The rabbit yawned and went and busied himself with something over at the desk. With his back thus turned and no one else watching them, Baloo leaned over to Rebecca and whispered to her, "Becky, I got my ropes untied. Whenever you're ready, I'm gonna jump free and get us outta here before those two muscleheads get back."

Rebecca nodded silently, while Molly looked on the verge of tears. Jack turned back to them now and walked over.

"Now, then," he said, "I'm sure you're all wondering precisely what I'm planning to do with you."

"Why are you doing this?" Rebecca demanded fiercely. Baloo had no doubt that if she weren't tied up and if there wasn't the eminent threat of the goons returning any second, Beckerz would choke the life out of Jack.

"That should be obvious to you, my sweet Rebecca. I already explained it to Baloo, but since I've spent the better part of five years rehearsing this whole thing I might as well level with you. I don't take kindly to having five years of my life stolen from me, Miss Cunningham. I still remember being stuffed down that cramped little porthole, then falling from the plane and being jumped by an entire garrison of Thembrian guards! I'd never been so terrified in my life!"

"You lied to us, you phoney!" Rebecca hissed. Jack tensed up, looking ready to explode, and, not for the first time, Baloo silently prayed she would quit while she was ahead. Unfortunately, it was not to be. "You endangered us with your stupid little spy games, and abandoned us and let us be captured by that dimwitted dwarf Colonel Spigot, all because YOU made a clerical error! As far as I'm concerned, you're nothing but a fake and a coward, and you didn't get HALF of what you deserve, especially now that you've hired goons to terrorize and kidnap us and burn down MY business!"

Jack looked hurt, then furious, and with a snarl he raised his hand to strike her, and Baloo was about to make his move when Molly whimpered, and, at that, Jack stopped, looking ashamed suddenly. He stopped himself, but then his anger returned and he snarled, "Yeah, but YOU and fathead here both got away while I rotted in Bedevilled Island Maximum Security Prison for something I didn't do! Somebody's gotta pay for that, and I pick you! Pay you will, Miss Cunningham, and pay DEARLY!"

Baloo leapt up with a roar. Jack's eyes widened in sudden fear and Baloo cuffed him harshly across the snout, knocking the rabbit backwards. He landed on the bed, bounced, and flipped over backwards, landing on the other side of the bed. Wasting no time, Baloo quickly turned and began untying the rope that held Molly to Rebecca. He had just gotten it undone when Jack tackled him from behind.

"Oh, no you don't!" he snarled, "You aren't getting away from me!"

"Molly, run!" Rebecca yelled, and, as before, Molly knew better than to disobey her mother in a situation like this.

While Baloo and Jack wrestled the bear cub ran for the door, which opened to reveal the hulking Sparky. He looked down, and made a grab for Molly who dashed under his legs, and then his attention was drawn to the grappling bear and rabbit and he ran to assist his boss. Once outside, Molly stopped when she found Jethro leaning over the engine of the sedan, looking at it. Seeing her he leapt up and clonked his head on the open hood with a loud clang.

"Ow!" he yelped, then, rubbing his head, headed for Molly. He stopped in his tracks when they both heard the sounds of fighting occurring from within the open motel room, and Sparky's voice yelled, "Jethro! Help me! Get in here!"

Jethro looked torn. He look at Molly, who stood there frozen, then at the door, and back and forth between the two until he made up his mind and bolted for the motel room door. Seeing her chance, Molly turned and ran past the parked car. She had to find her way back to Kit and Wildcat and tell them about the mean rabbit and where he could be found!

Inside the motel room, it took both Sparky and Jethro to subdue Baloo and tie him back up. Once he was secured to the chair again Jack, rubbing his head, stepped up to him. "THAT was a mistake, Mr. Baloo," he said, glaring. Baloo glared back. To Jethro, Jack asked, "Where's the little girl?"

"Uh, she got away," Jethro said, earning another kick in the shin.

"Curses!" Jack moaned, then sighed. "She'll bring the police! This calls for an accellaration of my plans, gentlemen," he said. "If the car is ready, put Miss Cunningham and Mr. Baloo into it."

"Where are you taking us?" Rebecca demanded, and Baloo, dizzy from his tussling with the two goons, suddenly envisioned a horrific end for both him and Rebecca with rocks tied to their feet and being tossed off of a bridge.

"Why, we're going back to Higher For Hire, or what's left of it," Jack said, making Baloo's mental image change slightly to being thrown off the end of the pier instead of a bridge. "I have need of your plane, Baloo. We're all going for a little ride in it, the three of us you and I, back to a land we all know very well. A land I assure you that you and Miss Cunningham aren't going to be coming back from for a long, long time!"


End file.
